


Sulahn'nehn's Revolt

by astrakhan



Series: Vir Sulahn'nehn [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Assassination Plot(s), Canon-Typical Violence, Dragon Age Kink Meme, Dragon Age Rare Pair Exchange, Dragon Age: Inquisition Spoilers, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Threesome - F/F/F, Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-15 07:52:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3439388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrakhan/pseuds/astrakhan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in between "Sulahn'nehn's Rise" and "Sulahn'nehn's Judgement," this story describes how Sulahn'nehn came to power as Empress. After Leliana becomes the ruthless Divine Victoria, she sets about a series of upheavals that benefit the powerful Inquisitor as well as the elven people while aggravating many nobles and clerics. She closes the Circles, rededicates the Chantry to charity work and allies with the Inquisition... before giving the Exalted Plains along with the City of Halamshiral to Sulahn'nehn for the elven people. Their machinations continue, culminating in the assassination of Queen Anora, and the (salaciously!) arranged marriage between King Alistair and Empress Celene to create a new Empire of Orlais...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sulahn'nehn attends Leliana's coronation as she becomes the Divine Victoria. In her first great speech, she promises great upheaval for Thedas. In a private conversation later, she promises even more. She has the Inquisitor complete a quest to assassinate the clerics that stand against her.

Sulahn’nehn awoke from a furtive nap with a jerk as Vivienne quietly elbowed her side. She sat in between the haughty enchantress and Cassandra in the front row of the cavernous Chantry of Val Royeaux. The gilded figures of Andraste lining the halls shone with a golden glow from the tall, thin windows.

The ceremony was so _long_. The Chant was endless and droning as Chantry mothers milled around ritualistically to bless the ascending Divine Victoria, her red hair hidden by a gilded veil. It reminded her of the hearths of her childhood in the Sylaise-dedicated clan of mages that sang endlessly to their own gods. A painful memory, now. 

It had only been a month since she had defeated Corypheus, and all of Thedas bowed to her might in gratitude. Since Solas disappeared. She now sat in honor at the front of the many pews of those who were permitted to attend the great Divine’s ascension. It had been thanks to her, after all, that Leliana had come into such power. 

Her influence as Inquisitor had led the Chantry’s floundering clerics to choose Leliana from her inner circle to lead their religion. Vivienne and Cassandra had been the other choices, as the women knew all too well; Cassandra never desired the burden, but Vivienne made no attempt to hide her scornful disappointment. 

Leliana gained favor through her careful machinations in the Inquisitor’s employ. As the Inquisitor folded the Templars into her ranks, and reunited the Empress Celene with her elven lover Briala, enough changes had been made that the Chantry mothers were ready to accept Leliana’s brand of harsh change in her hardened state. She often whispered to the Inquisitor of change in the days leading up to the ceremony of creating future peace through upheaval; of closing the Circles, of reforming the Chantry’s purpose, of helping the elves. 

The Chantry mothers had treated her so scornfully as the Divine Justinia’s furtive left hand, but they blessed her now, kissing her very feet as she gazed at them from her gilt throne with an unreadable expression. She was ever the careful bard, unwilling to betray her emotions to her enemies, a trait Sulahn’nehn had always admired and tried to emulate. 

Leliana rose to her feet. Creators, was this ceremony finally over? It had been morning when she first sat in the hard wooden pew, and her legs now ached as the evening light streamed in. Sulahn’nehn noticed those around her, too, rising to their feet, and quickly copied them. Even now, she was not quite adept at hiding among the shemlen, no matter how much she studied their behaviors. 

The Chantry sisters ceased their endless chant. The Divine Victoria spoke out her sweet Orlesian accent, the sole voice ringing through the vast hall. 

“Thank you for this honor, my people. But I cannot accept it without first speaking to the grave danger the Chantry itself faces if we do not change.” 

The crowd’s faces were implacable. Of course; they were all Orlesian. Leliana continued her admonishment, unhindered. 

“The Chantry dictated where it should have inspired. It spoke of judgement instead of acceptance. We cannot allow that to continue. We cannot sequester and subjugate others in the name of religion. We will no longer accept the elven people, the mages, the dwarves and Qunari as any less than our equals.” 

The crowd did not stir, but Sulahn’nehn noticed a few raised eyebrows and furtive glances among them as the Divine’s sweet voice rang out. 

“The Chantry should be a place of hope. It should encourage the good in everyone, rather than rebuke us for our sins. We will rededicate our purpose to charity. No one should be turned away from our doors. No one is without worth. The Chantry will be better than it has been before. We will accept those of all races to join our priesthood.” 

Many more of the crowd raised their eyebrows, but Sulahn’nehn knew Leliana was far from done. 

“Furthermore, I declare the Circles of Magi under our protection now closed.” 

The silence broke suddenly as the gathered nobles and clerics began to gossip in confusion. Few had known of Leliana’s plans. 

“The mages may continue to inhabit their former halls for the time being, until a solution is found. I encourage them to venture into society and rejoin the people once again.” 

Leliana approached the red-haired elven mage now, smiling. 

“I am humbled by the presence of the great Inquisitor, who saved us all many times over in the past year. Thedas is ever in your debt, my lady.” Sulahn’nehn nervously turned around and smiled at those standing behind her who now peered at her in curiosity. They were all so tall. Leliana touched her shoulder, and she turned back to listen. 

“On this day, I declare the Chantry in support of the Inquisition and its noble goals. We will bow to your leadership in times of turmoil, as you have already proved your wisdom and strength.” 

It was an excellent parting gift from her former spymaster. The Inquisition’s influence could only grow, if the Chantry itself bowed to her wisdom. Sulahn’nehn smiled and kissed the new Divine’s hand warmly. 

Leliana was done with her first great speech, and had ended it with a surprise. The day-long ceremony was finally over. Divine Victoria graciously curtseyed to the deeply bowing clerics, and made a quiet exit. The Chantry sisters took up their droning chant once more, to Sulahn’nehn’s disappointment. 

Cassandra accompanied the elven mage to a great feast, laden with roast chicken and vegetables, which was unusually quiet in the presence of the many clerics who ate in silence. The took a vast, empty table and they, too, ate in silence, gazing around them shyly at the pointed glances shared by the others among them. 

When she was done eating, she bade Cassandra join her as they visited the Divine’s private chambers. They were stopped for a long while by an overly eager guard; a sharp word from Leliana herself finally let them through. 

“How are you feeling, Leliana?” asked the Inquisitor, still jovial with her close spymaster friend who had newly come in to such power. They were both bards; they had shared many hours in harmony. Leliana knew and loved the old elven songs, to her delight. 

“I am tired. There is much work to be done. Already, new sects arise within the Chantry. We must be quick to silence the dissenting voices before a schism arises. Will you help me in this, before you return to Skyhold, Inquisitor?” 

Cassandra raised an eyebrow. “Your Worship, do you intend to kill the clerics who stand against you?” 

Leliana laughed, a sweet peal that betrayed no malice. “I am the Divine. I alone have the right, do I not?” 

Sulahn’nehn interrupted before the argument went further. Though she somewhat agreed with Cassandra's hesitation, she could not fault Leliana’s ruthless logic, and secretly rather admired it. 

“I will help you, Leliana. Divine Victoria. I have not forgotten your aid, nor your cunning wisdom. Tell me your troubles and your strategy, and I will make it my priority before I return home. Cassandra, you may choose to help me if you wish, but you are under no pressure.” 

Cassandra looked at her nervously. “Your Worship, I cannot in good faith kill so many of the kind clerics within these holy walls on such a blessed night.” 

Sulahn’nehn nodded and smiled. She was a Knight-Enchanter; she didn’t really need backup. 

“Don’t worry, Cass, you can stay out of it. You don’t have to be involved in this.” 

Cassandra nodded at her and swiftly exited the room, sighing with disgust. 

Leliana paced the room quietly and finally turned to her with an unreadable expression. 

“There are three main targets. Find Cleric Germaine, Cleric Colette and Cleric Lysanne and poison them in their bedchambers.” She proffered a small vial of clear liquid from her sleeve. 

“Use this Antivan poison, and their symptoms will appear on the morrow as though they died of old age. Be swift and silent, and return when you are done.” 

Sulahn’nehn nodded and quickly pocketed the vial. She removed her boots before leaving the room. She had never been good at being stealthy with boots on, even though she was fairly stealthy for a mage. 

She crept through the halls of the Chantry quietly where the clerics slept, the assassin in the dark. Leliana would have done as much for her, she reminded herself, whenever the guilt of coldly murdering these sleeping, sweet old ladies rose up in her throat. She was a mage, not a rogue, not accustomed to such chicanery. Her magic was supposed to put her above these little tricks. Whatever would Solas have thought of her actions now? 

She could not bring herself to think of him any more than that. She stopped quietly in the shadows to gather her focus, forcing any agonizing thoughts of his knowing laugh, long nose and adorably dimpled chin out of her mind before she entered the first room. 

It was easy enough. The cleric Germaine slept on her back with her mouth open, snoring loudly. Sulahn’nehn quietly stole into the room, spilled a few drops of the poison down the cleric’s throat and left. 

The second room was harder. The cleric Colette slept on her stomach. Carefully, quietly, Sulahn’nehn rolled the frail woman on to her back. She recognized her face; the cleric had said kind words to the Inquisitor earlier that day. The elven mage felt a sharp pang of guilt as a drop of clear liquid ran down the sweet cleric’s throat. 

Cleric Lysanne slept on her side, and her mouth hung open in drooping folds like a bloodhound. Sulahn’nehn rolled her over too quickly; the cleric seemed to awaken, and the elf quickly ducked down beside the bed as the old woman coughed. After a few minutes of silence, Sulahn’nehn stood to quickly drop the last of the tiny vial down the cleric’s throat, and returned to Leliana’s quarters furtively. 

“Inquisitor, you have returned. Have you administered the potion to all three clerics?” Leliana stood anxiously in her ornately gilded white Divine’s garb, without her veil. 

Sulahn’nehn smiled proudly and nodded, handing the empty vial back to the Divine. “None of them woke up. It was clean and quick.” 

Leliana smiled and breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Inquisitor. I could not do this myself, as you can imagine. I do not yet possess a Left Hand to extend my judgement. If only you were more available…” She sighed again and shook her head. “But I cannot take you from your burdens. I know all too well how much the Inquisition still has to face.” 

Sulahn’nehn smiled and shrugged. Corypheus was gone and the Breach was closed; what else had she left to really fight for? She would be through with the remaining rifts in Thedas in a matter of days. 

“My old friend, I would be honored to take up your burdens in secret. I understand all too well the needs of the Divine, through what you have related of your former role. Though it would be improper for me to retain an official title, I can be your Left Hand, if you wish it.” 

Leliana smiled broadly, a truly honest expression for the first time that day. “Thank you, Sulahn’nehn. Your support has meant so much to me. Together, we can really make a change, and make Thedas a better place.” 

She began to pace again, toward the balcony. “Come with me.” Sulahn’nehn obediently followed her former spymaster, now so exalted in stature. The Divine was the head of the religion, the earthly embodiment of Andraste herself; even the Herald of Andraste was no peer in comparison. 

They reached the balcony, which was tightly enclosed with plants, offering a view of Val Royeaux that Sulahn’nehn could not glimpse from her petite stature. Leliana sat at a comfortable wicker chaise, gesturing to another for the elf to join her. 

“I wish to speak to you again of what I briefly mentioned earlier. Change. The change we can bring to Thedas. Together.” 

Sulahn’nehn stayed quiet, unsure, while Leliana stared deep into her eyes. Her gaze was searching, unsettling, like she could read every aspect of Sulahn’nehn’s thoughts through her expression. As a bard, she probably could. Sulahn’nehn felt oddly disconnected, as she sometimes did under stress; Leliana seemed to become smaller in her vision, the world becoming unfathomably and oppressively huge. The spymaster had always been intense, but to affect her this much? She closed her eyes and breathed slowly to quiet her heartbeat as Leliana continued. 

“I know you have done much already in your life to help your people. I, too, have seen how much they suffer in my own travels, Dalish and city elves alike. I want to help you in kind. I am working now to give you back your lands. The Exalted Plains, which the Chantry took from you long ago. The Emerald Graves, which lie unpopulated. And the city of Halamshiral, to finally end the elven rebellions.” 

Sulahn’nehn opened her eyes in surprise. She had never expected such a gift; the Chantry’s support had been enough of a boon that day. “But the Chantry-“ 

“Is under my control,” said Leliana calmly, a steely glint in her eye. Sulahn’nehn bit her lip and nodded meekly. Leliana had become so ruthless, in front of her very eyes, slashing the throat of a chantry mother without a moment’s hesitation. She was a force to reckon with, and the Inquisitor was glad this merciless Divine was on her side. 

“Use your lands wisely. Give them to your people. Create a new university for the mages. That is all I ask.” 

Sulahn’nehn smiled; she had planned all of this, and so much more, but never expected her wildest dreams to ever come into fruition. She stepped forward to embrace her friend for her kindness, but stopped hesitantly with her arms raised. Leliana smiled and pulled the elf into a hug, gratefully returned.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Leliana's surprise gift, Sulahn'nehn returns to Skyhold, where every inch of the ancient fortress plagues her with bitter memories of Solas. She tries to distract herself in Cullen's arms, which works- to an extent. She returns to the great hall to find Leliana awaiting her with a terrible, but cunning plan...
> 
> NSFW chapter:  
> Lavellan x Cullen

Sulahn’nehn returned to Skyhold, and the days passed. She missed her old spymaster’s presence, though she had quickly replaced her with the cunning and flirtatious elf Briala, who had won her favor alongside the empress Celene during the scandalous proceedings at Halamshiral so long ago.

Halamshiral… where, after the ball where she stood victorious over the scheming Florianne, Solas took her into his loving arms and danced. Halamshiral, the city that was now hers. Sulahn’nehn was truly glad for the Divine’s benevolence; it meant the city elves who had rebelled and been silenced so recently could rise to a state of equality once again. But it also meant she would have to spend time in the Winter Palace, avoiding any of the spots where they had fought and smiled and laughed together.

Sulahn’nehn sat at the desk of her bedroom in Skyhold with her eyes closed in silent anguish. Her fennec Mien'Harel lay on the floor beside her, asleep. She had long since placed dark curtains over the windows to her balcony, dismayingly blocking out the light, but also blocking out the memories of his kisses in the sunset. Now, even the sight of the fresco above her bed that he had lovingly taught her to paint brought her pain. She had to get out of here. She had to get out of this.

Her red hair was tousled and unkempt; it had regrown since she shaved it, and she had cut the top of her former mohawk short to match the slowly growing crop at the sides. The desk lay in disarray, as always, her dirty-booted feet carelessly propped against a coded missive from the new Divine about how her negotiations with Celene to obtain the Chantry’s stolen lands and return them fared. She had always been relatively careless with her things, to the dismay of her elders and especially the neat and fastidious bald elf. She was even more careless now, to spite him, even though his inexplicable absence meant he would never witness it.

She had to escape her room. Every inch of it reminded her of him. She quickly left, reminding herself to spend as little time there as possible. Her heart beat hard as she stalked downstairs to her destination, determined. There was only one way she had managed to forget him, for a little while.

From the halls, she walked back up to the battlements, smiling a little at the thought of what she planned. It had become a routine, over the past few weeks. She would enter his room as he worked, excusing herself with talk of an important discussion. He would dismiss his soldiers. She would kiss him at his desk, and momentarily forget her heartbreak in his warm arms. He cared for her so much. It was intoxicating, even if she could not return it.

When she entered Cullen’s office, he was alone, and hunched over his desk in pain. His lyrium addiction… Not again.

Sulahn’nehn swiftly walked over to the handsome blonde general and embraced him tightly from behind. “It’s all right, Cullen. I’m here. It’ll pass. You’ll feel better soon.” She quietly focused healing magic into him, unnoticed, and he began to calm.

He turned to face her, ashamed. “I’m sorry you had to see me like this again. I thought… I wish I could be stronger.” He sighed, and Sulahn’nehn pulled him into another embrace, speaking into his armor.

“Cullen, don’t worry. Remember what I told you, I really do understand what it’s like. It’s awful, and it never ends. I’m here for you, no matter what. I’m your friend,” she said earnestly, adding the last part in guilt to remind them both of where her heart truly lay.

Cullen stayed quiet, and eventually raised his strong arms to hold her back. She felt so guilty. But she had meant it; she really did understand his lyrium addiction more than any other non-templar could. The song of lyrium had plagued her all her life, since she had been made to guard a cartload of lyrium as a twelve year old, drawn ever closer until she climbed up into the cart itself and the lyrium began to drain her life force. It took three clan members to pull her away. 

She got in trouble a few years later by trying to listen to a shard directly. At first, the song filled her, and she rejoiced in the memory of its fleeting beauty. But it began to drain her again, growing ever larger as it sapped her own spirit, wounding her own ear forever. She knew better now, but barely a year ago she had done it again. The song of lyrium had plagued her ever since, a song she yearned to hear again but could not remember. It was a little different for the templars, who were physically addicted to the stuff, but she understood.

He sighed again, and she quickly raised her head to kiss him. His kiss was rougher than Solas, less refined, but she threw herself into it all the same. She was his friend, and she truly loved him as one, as much as she enjoyed their new side benefits. But she could not bring herself to declare anything more, or hurt him by sealing herself away fully. Not yet.

He began to kiss her hard, his rough, calloused hands tugging away at the soft silk pajamas she wore under her armor. She pulled away his armor in kind, smiling under his lips, propping herself up to sit on his desk. He grinned at her and deftly pushed his stationary and trinkets aside, already erect and free of his breeches.

He was still weak; he was not as quickly forceful as he had been previously. Sulahn’nehn appreciated it. It reminded her of… Creators, not now, she came here to forget him! 

She opened her eyes and focused on Cullen’s face; his sweet button nose, his round ears, his rough stubble. She ruffled her fingers through his thick blond hair and tugged at it as he panted against her. He was so different. 

And quick. He finished on her leg with a gasp, offering her a rag to mop herself up. They both dressed quickly in case the soldiers returned, smiling at each other.

Sulahn’nehn casually rested her arms on his shoulders and looked up at the tall human templar. So tall, compared to her own people. “Do you feel better now?” she asked softly.

He smiled at her. “Very much so. Do you?” She looked away in shame; that was not what she had meant. He knew.

“Cullen, I…” she began hesitantly. He stopped her with a soft, quick peck.

“Don’t worry. I understand. I’m here for you through the worst of it, like you have been for me.”

She smiled and hugged him tightly before a knock at the door caused them to part and affect a platonic stance in the presence of the soldiers. She nodded as they entered, and swiftly made her exit.

Josephine was waiting for her in the main hall. “Your Worship, the Divine Victoria has made her presence known here! She awaits you in my meeting room.” Josephine smiled and ushered her towards Solas’s old rotunda as Sulahn’nehn sighed and prepared for more painful memories to assault her.

Leliana was waiting for her quietly, sitting in one of the luxuriously gilded chairs Josephine had placed in the room to replace Solas’s old furniture, a welcome but minor change. His gorgeous fresco still stood around them; metaphorical images representing Sulahn’nehn’s own struggles against Corypheus. It still lay unfinished, a painful symbol of their relationship. She had tried to scrutinize the sketch on the wall for hours after he left; it seemed to depict a dragon bowing to a wolf, but why?

Mien'Harel sat in the doorway, watching them. Leliana was quick to turn to business, a welcome respite from her intrusive memories. 

“Sulahn’nehn. It is a pleasure to see you again, my friend. Please, sit.” The Divine gestured to a chair beside her, and the Inqusitor obediently sat. Mien'Harel jumped into her lap, and she softly petted his silky white fur.

The Divine smiled at her and continued. “The negotiations with Orlais are going well. The nobles are displeased, as expected, but Celene knows much of the debt she owes you for her empire. She is willing to bequeath you the land, if you are ready.”

Sulahn’nehn nodded and beamed. She could do so much with that land, with the money she had amassed as Inquisitor. She was Dalish; she could get by on little, if it meant she could pour her heart into giving her people and the mages a safe homeland.

Leliana looked at her, still smiling, but her eyes seemed sad. “But the empire will come at a cost.”

A cost? The academy she spoke of before was no true burden. It would be a delight to create such an honorable place and replace the dreaded tyranny of the Circles.

“You will not be able to lead an independent empire under Orlais alone. You will be under Celene’s power, and her laws, unless you fight for independence. I have a suggestion for you, if you are willing.”

Sulahn’nehn nodded; Leliana’s methods were ruthless, but wise in their calculations. “What do you suggest, Your Worship?”

Leliana looked down at her hands, resting clasped on the lap of her rich white Divine’s robe. “You should try to unite Orlais and Ferelden. Through marriage.”

Marriage? How was that possible? Celene remained unmarried, but Queen Anora and King Alistair of Ferelden had been happily married since the end of the Blight. At the Divine’s coronation, they had canoodled like teenage lovers. Sulahn’nehn shook her head in confusion.

“Your worship, is that not impossible while the King and Queen remain married? Do you intend to somehow dissolve their marriage? Alistair will surely be discredited without Anora. She is so popular with the people.”

Leliana sighed. “It is truly a shame, for Anora is a sweet spirit. But if you wish to make the swift and brutal changes you claim to desire, there must be casualties in your wake. I can provide a recipe for a red lyrium poison that will slowly drive her to madness, discrediting her among her own people, before killing her quietly.”

Sulahn’nehn sat quietly, gazing up at the library where Dorian still stood to avoid the masterpiece surrounding her. It would be the most callous and shameful act of her life. But surely Leliana had done similar acts in her name, and in the name of the Divine Justinia, to protect the people? That was the key. She was not doing this for herself. She was doing this for her people, and she would do whatever it took to ensure their freedom. Even if it hardened her heart.

“I will consider your counsel, Your Worship. I am most interested in the poison you speak of. I understand you will give an announcement when the negotiations for the land are finalized? And… Anora will be a guest?”

Leliana nodded, smiling.

“Then we shall see what comes. Creators, I never thought I had it in me. I will do anything for my people,” sighed the elven Inquisitor, standing and curtseying as she quickly left the Divine alone in the room where Solas once tenderly held her sleeping body as they made love in the Fade. The fennec quietly trailed behind her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sulahn'nehn poisons Anora after Leliana officially gives her the Exalted Plains. She feels terrible about it.

The announcement came far too soon. Sulahn’nehn was summoned to the Chantry of Val Royeaux, where throngs of disgruntled nobles awaited her. She wore the Inquisition formal suit rather than a dress or armor, as a protective symbol of her power. It was also the stealthiest thing she owned. Perhaps she should have borrowed clothes from Sera. Creators knew she stole her own clothes enough.

She was, again, seated at the front. This time, King Alistair and Queen Anora sat by her side. They amiably chatted with the Inquisitor about trivial matters while she smiled in a frozen mask of guilt. Leliana was already in place, and watching her carefully. Sulahn’nehn could feel the Divine’s eyes boring upon her as the Queen of Ferelden laughed and touched her arm like an old friend. _Now_? She had accepted the ruthless task, but she could not possibly assassinate someone, in front of so many, while she made such pleasant conversation. She quietly raised an eyebrow at the Divine, who almost imperceptibly shook her head. 

The Divine stood, and the crowd stood again. Sulahn’nehn knew the routine this time, and didn’t miss a beat, to her quiet pride. The shemlen’s culture was easy enough to adapt to if she just paid attention. As she stood, she noticed Briala and Celene sitting together in the opposite pew. Her spymaster had informed her of her attendance; she had prior commitments, as Sulahn’nehn well knew. The Inquisitor allowed her to visit her imperial lover whenever summoned. She was not one to get in the way of love.

Leliana raised her delicate chin high as she began to speak powerfully. “My children, the time has come to restore what we ungraciously took from the elven people in our misdirected Exalted Marches. The Chantry formally renounces its prior actions, and begs the elven people for forgiveness.”

The gathered crowd stood in stony silence; they had all heard rumors of the announcement already. It came as no surprise, and provided a sound reason for many of the noble’s sour expressions.

Leliana gestured to Sulahn’nehn to stand at her side, and the Inquisitor did so promptly. She stepped lightly onto a gilded dais and stood nervously beside the Divine’s throne. Celene, too, came to stand on Leliana’s right side, smiling warmly at Sulahn’nehn to ease her nerves as the Divine continued.

“Here stands a shining example of the elven people; indeed, a shining example for us all. The great Inquisitor, who vanquished the terror named Corypheus who so recently wreaked havoc on our lands by opening the Breach. She alone has the wisdom to lead her people to freedom, and I have named her regent of the lands which the Chantry will today bestow upon all the elven people to call their homeland.”

She gestured to Celene, who nodded and smiled, raising her own chin high to address her empire’s nobles.

“My people, it is only right that the elven citizens of our population are granted a homeland in which to thrive. The brutal rebellions at Halamshiral and beyond have taught us all much of how happy the elves are in their current stations. As their empress, I cannot bear to see my own people suffer.” 

“I humbly bequeath this holy land back to the Chantry, and in turn to the great Inquisitor Sulahn’nehn, to whom we all owe a great debt for our very lives. Those who hold titles in the Exalted Plains are permitted to stay, or seek new land from the court. The Exalted Plains shall henceforth be known as _Dirthavaren,_ the elven term for their promised land.”

She smiled and gave a great imperial curtsey to the Inquisitor. All eyes were on her, and suddenly, the crowd bowed in turn.

This was different than when she was named Inquisitor, and her own people bowed to her. Her own friends. That had been a victory in itself. But these were _nobles,_ proud shemlen who would never deign to bow to an elf no matter her station. They were treating her as an equal. Further, they _exalted_ her. It was incredible.

She saw Anora smiling at her in the crowd, and smiled back, still boiling inside with guilt.

The next hour or so went by in a blur, it was so stressful. Nobles from all over the Exalted Plains came to make themselves known to her, displaying varying levels of snide disappointment. Then, nobles from the Emerald Graves and Emprise du Lion came to her in worried shows of flattery. Her face hurt from maintaining her fixed, fake smile.

Finally, the Divine’s court adjourned, and there was another feast. She was the first to enter, and bade the chantry mothers who served them this night tell her of her place and her companions. Leliana had seated her beside Anora, and sent her in far too early. Now was clearly meant to be the time.

Before anyone else entered, and while the Chantry mothers were occupied, Sulahn’nehn furtively took Anora’s cup under the table and poured in the potion Leliana gave her. It was red and hot, a vial of refined red lyrium. Even its presence made her uneasy. When she poured the solution into Anora’s red wine, it fizzed and popped. Sulahn’nehn was glad she chose a private moment for this particular task.

She quickly replaced the cup and attended to her own, gulping the wine down quickly without tasting it and asking the mothers to bring her another. If she had to watch her friend die slowly of madness at her own hand, she may as well be drunk for it.

A bard entered, and began to set up. Sulahn’nehn downed several more glasses as she watched the man tune up and practice scales, until more nobles began to arrive. Finally, Alistair and Anora sat on either side of her, smiling.

To her dismay, they were so _nice_. And so _funny_. She laughed at Alistair’s ridiculous puns, but laughed ever harder at Anora’s dry putdowns afterwards. They looked at each other so lovingly. For a few moments, she felt as she was invisible as they shared private moments around her. Every few minutes, Anora would drink from her cup, and Sulahn’nehn would choke as the bile rose up in her throat.

Anora finished her cup of poisoned wine. That night, she continued to drink from the cup, filling it with ever more blood red wine, remarking on how it seemed to taste much better as she continued to drink it. Sulahn’nehn poked at her pheasant with her fork in shame.

When the feast ended, Alistair and Anora both kissed her hand as they bade her farewell. Anora’s kiss already felt hot and feverish.

Leliana called her onto her balcony again, and Sulahn’nehn obeyed without hesitation. She knew better than to flout _this_ ruthless Divine. She had seen her harden, but had no idea how much the Divine would seem to _enjoy_ exerting her power. Leliana smiled at her as she entered.

“Inquisitor, were your efforts successful tonight? Did she finish the cup?”

Sulahn’nehn wordlessly nodded, unable to speak for fear of bursting into tears. Whatever happened now would be _her fault_ , surely. And they were so much in love. Whatever happened to Anora, it would hurt Alistair, too. 

Unable to continue the conversation, with tears already welling in her eyes, Sulahn’nehn simply turned and left, leaving Leliana surprised on her enclosed balcony.

She cried in the carriage, all the way back to Skyhold. Briala was with her in the carriage again; she had spent the entire weekend with Celene. She did not disclose the source of her troubles, this time, but Briala did not ask. She must have regretted asking what was wrong, the _first_ time the Inquisitor burst into an hour-long rant about Solas…

Briala simply sat quietly and held her hand beside her, a kind, sweet gesture. Sulahn’nehn closed her eyes, her face still wet, and leaned her head against her friend quietly as she contemplated the monster she had become.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sulahn'nehn's pet fennec, Mien'Harel, is a LOT weirder than she expected. It begins to train her in a strange new technique.
> 
> Anora's slowly going mad.

That night, she returned to the dream world she had crafted so carefully. It was lush and uninhabited; a facsimile of the Emprise du Lion she had melted with her fires until the grasses grew green, the river flowed crystal clear and the Crystal Falls finally lived up to their name in their glimmering, kaleidoscopic plummet.

She sighed and undressed, as she always did, lying down in the soft grass and focusing on the sound of the crashing falls and the feeling of the grass’s gentle brush against her skin and the warm dream-sun of the Fade kissing her with heat in order to focus her mind away from the memories that pervaded even _this_ beautiful place.

She created this place just _for_ that waterfall, heated it so lovingly to create a place of bathing and relaxation. She loved waterfalls. There were so few of them in Thedas. And then she brought him here, the one who had taught her to walk and manipulate her memories, and it all changed.

She could no longer visit the one in Crestwood, where he had left her, and she could barely stand her own any more. She could no longer revel in its warm rapids without imagining his caress, his kisses as he pressed her against the rocky cliff over which the fall tumbled.

She began to cry again, still filled with grief and loss, her sadness intensified by the guilt and self-loathing she now felt over poisoning Anora at the feast. 

She felt a fluffy little body sidle against hers, nuzzling her. Mien’Harel. Her pet fennec. He was so unusual, and so strange, but she had come to trust it, as sweet and funny as it was.

She smiled through her tears and lifted it up into the air, blocking the sunlight with its body for a moment before pulling it back into a hug. It wriggled and licked her tears from her face. She laughed, and stroked its soft white fur as it gazed at her with its strange, beady, glowing blue eyes.

It was such a pleasant little thing… but what _was_ it, and why had it come to her? She knew it was no real fennec. A fennec could not join her in the Fade. Nor could it Fade Cloak like a Knight-Enchanter, something it demonstrated from the day they met. It was something most mages could not manage, something her pet had come to do in every battle they faced as it patiently watched her fight her enemies. 

She thought back to the day it appeared, after she jubilantly killed the tenth dragon in Thedas _mostly_ alone, with Solas for backup and healing. She had felt so powerful as it fell to her feet, her spirit sword burning brighter than ever. And as she exited, the fennec sat there, like it had been watching the whole time.

She took the furry creature into her arms without a moment's hesitance and named it Mien'Harel, in honor of the rebellions by the city elves she so admired for their pluck. In truth, it was also a nod to Fen'Harel, the cunning god who had come to replace Sylaise in her heart since she learned of his true nature at the Temple of Mythal. 

She had come to accept it as a spirit, like her friend Cole, the Spirit of Compassion bound to the form of a dead mage boy. She did not know what aspect her pet represented, what goals it served in following her everywhere, but it was sweet and affectionate, and she had come to love and trust the small furry fox.

It seemed very interested in her approach to combat, and her actions as a leader; it watched her political proceedings from her lap as patiently as it watched her defeat demons and close the last remaining rifts, though its diminutively fluffy presence was far more welcome in the palace.

For a moment, she remembered her first carriage ride with the little fennec, as it regaled her with its antics. Solas was _so_ annoyed.

She sighed and laid her head back, tears welling uncontrollably in her eyes once more. Even her memories of her blighted _fennec_ were tainted by that stupid Fade nerd.

 _Don’t cry, little one,_ said a strangely disembodied, multiplied voice. It came from… her chest? She sat up, startled, placing the fennec on the ground in front of her.

She looked at it apprehensively. “I’m bigger than you, you know,” she said in a teasing voice, still charmed by her close pet in her surprise. It cocked its head at her.

 _Only as you perceive us,_ it replied, its own voices joking amiably in return. _Us?_ It did not move its mouth, but its voices seemed to radiate around her. There were six of them, clearly, each speaking in a different octave but matching in timbre.

She frowned down at her pet, her legs and arms tucked into a fetal position as she sat beside it. 

“What are you? Why are you speaking to me now? You’ve been by my side for months,” she asked suspiciously.

_We will explain our nature when you are ready. You are closer than you know. For now, we will tell you why you are chosen._

“Chosen for what purpose? How?” she asked the fennec, confused.

_We call you to bring judgement upon those who wronged us so long ago. We will give you the power, and show you how to use it. We have spent these months preparing you for our gift. You may have noticed your magic increasing in power already._

She looked down at her hands. She had indeed noticed a steady boost in power after the dragons were all gone, but she had assumed that was due to the growing power of her Mark. Was this some power _unique_ to her? She was chosen… She felt a surge of pride even in her apprehension. Surely this power would come at a cost; it always did. Like the Well of Sorrows.

“Why me? What is the cost of this power?”

The fennec cocked its head at her again. 

_You have demonstrated your might, your wisdom, and your sound judgement. You alone are a paragon of our own kind. The only cost to you will be that those we have condemned are of your kin._

“My kin? All of my kin? I can’t attack my own people!” she gasped in panic, rising to her feet.

The fennec shook its little head, its ears twitching.

_No. Only two. Now will begin your training._

It coughed up a ball of light, which it flicked up at her with its paw. She gingerly held and inspected it. It was so much like the now white beam of her spirit sword in the real world. It was difficult to even hold it; it was searing hot, burning her fingers even in her adept fire mage’s resistance, and its glow blinded her vision as she looked at it.

 _Manipulate it as you please,_ said Mien’Harel, cocking its head at her with what looked like a smile.

It felt like hours of torturous struggle before she could even perceive and hold the ball without pain. Eventually, gazing into its bright light, she could make out little glowing threads swirling in its center. She plucked one out, and looked at it; it wriggled like a little worm, and it seemed to like her, writhing itself against her hand. 

She plucked out another worm and it immediately stuck to its sibling, growing into a large glowing white mass. She put down the ball and molded it a little; it was like a soft, warm putty, endlessly shapeable. She picked up the entire ball and mashed it between her palms with a focus of her will; it melted at her touch, becoming malleable and cooling.

Mien’Harel smiled, and coughed up another ball for her. She quickly caught it.

Soon, she could focus on the center of the balls of light and mold all of it with her will into a solid, stable form. She made elementary pieces; rods, bricks, strings. Like a child, she gleefully played with the forms she had created, building small models of buildings as the fennec watched in approval and offered sound structural advice. 

It was not long before she was adept with the balls of light the fennec threw at her, molding them into a perfect shape even before it reached her hand to place it delicately into her structures. 

Over the following evenings, as she finally found her dreams a welcoming respite from her waking burdens, she built her ideal palace to scale with the light itself. She created vast archways and chambers that mimicked but refined the elven temples she had wondered at all her life. 

When she awoke, and travelled the lands as the mighty Inquisitor, she found those powerful, non-elemental balls of hot light now emanated from any staff she held, no matter their original enchantment. Their enchantments were not _removed_ \- she could still pass her old staves on to Vivienne without embarrassment- but they were simply dominated by the sheer force of her new magic.

One fateful night, a week later, the fennec sat waiting for her expectantly beside a small plate of what looked like glowing fruit. Sulahn’nehn ran unhesitatingly to her pet and mentor. It looked adorable as it waited for her to approach it, its little head cocked the same way it waited for its dinner.

 _Eat, child,_ it bade her.

She lifted the plate towards her face and inspected the fruit, an image forever branded in her memory. There were six of them, round and berry-like, without stems or leaves, but strangely devoid of any color or fragrance; they swirled with gossamer threads of light like little water-filled capsules, almost bursting from within, an effect that made them seem especially juicy. 

Without hesitation, she placed one in her mouth, bit gently, and the world burst into song, a song she had so desperately tried to remember all her life. She ate the rest in a swift frenzy, the fruit sweeter, sourer, fresher than any before or since, but not like fruit at all. It was like eating light itself, thick, liquid light, and as she ate, she could hear the song of lyrium so clearly, so calmly. She was immune to its seductive power, now.

She had tried to hear it on her own, more than once. The first time, she was twelve, and she had been left alone in the woods with a cartload of lyrium a dwarven merchant had traded to her new clan of June-worshipping craftsmen. She could hear the song faintly from where she stood, so tantalizingly beautiful but just out of hearing, and kept drawing closer, ignoring her strict instructions to stand and guard the shipment without touching it. By the time clan Vehn’durgen found her, she was _in_ the cart, “practically swimming in it” as her Keeper had recounted later, with no memory of either the incident or the song.

Years later, still yearning for the memory of that beautiful song, sick of singing the same old Dalish songs of devotion endlessly to her clan as her role as dirthenera demanded, she had tried to listen to a small stolen shard directly. She discovered its strange power to her horror: it began to grow into her skull as she listened, damaging her ear forever even after her clanmates pulled it out and the angry Keeper healed her. Her Keeper had punished her indiscretion by confining her to her duties at the clan’s hearth and her own aravel for years until the next Arlath’vehn, when he traded her away to clan Lavellan for a pittance without a moment’s hesitance. 

She never forgot her longing for that song, and knew in her heart it connected her somehow to what made her _elvhen_ \- what made the elven people so different to the humans that subjugated them. She repeated the instance only once, long after she noticed her new mark’s strange opposition to lyrium, when she knew she could pull it from herself safely. The ploy worked, and made her remember all the ancient songs based on the original she had begun to forget. It also deeply weakened her resolve for months, a fact she never admitted even to Solas.

Her thirst to remember the song grew ever stronger, and she fully accepted Cullen’s decision to stop taking the strange substance, knowing the effect it had on _her._ She carefully avoided every new shipment of lyrium the Templars brought in, until the fruit rendered her immune to its captivating charms.

As she ravenously accepted Mien’Harel’s gift, the song returned in full force, as though it had been around her all along and she simply could not hear it. She opened her eyes to find her Fade-world swimming away as she floated helplessly in a black, empty void, the song still surging around her.

The only light she could see emanated from the fennec, floating ahead of her. 

_You are complete_ , it spoke, its strangely multiplied voice echoing in her mind. _Now we will explain._

The fennec began to grow large and disjointed, separating into six brilliant, enormous orbs that danced in front of her in a sword-like formation and then _into_ her, making the elf gasp at the surge of power in her chest before her reality began to shift.

She was still in the vast, empty void, but here she felt so much… Bigger. As she looked down at her body, she realized she was no longer a single entity but six orbs of ancient celestial power joined as one in mind, symbolically united under a common goal. Judgement. She knew what they would tell her even before the voices began to speak from inside her heart.

_We have watched and waited beyond ages, and we remember. We are Judex, the Sword of Judgement, and you are the sword that will bring judgement to this sorrowful, blighted world._

Sulahn’nehn felt an aching in her chest as Judex’s gathered memories flooded her, so ancient, so far beyond time. She watched sadly as her cousin Solium flouted the principles of their kind to take another as his bride, a being made of rock, a union that resulted in children filled with every base instinct their kind despised: pride, greed, envy, qualities that twisted and corrupted even the sweet spirits that should have filled the world instead. 

She watched a tiny figure cast the very Sun down into the Earth itself, shattering them together in agony. She observed another tiny figure heal the scarred world, creating another small globe that hung beside the battered, bruised sun forever as a reminder of that folly.

She watched as the elven people bred like flies and polluted their mother planet with their greed; she watched the tiny form of Andruil flit through the void in her stolen armor, blight-wraiths at her heel, finally connecting just enough to transfer the guardian’s plague to the errant thief. 

Through the star-clan’s memories, she understood it was a punishment that should have killed her instantly. But the tiny elf survived long enough to return to Thedas to regenerate, a blip soaring through the Void, spreading the blight all the while as her own people began to succumb to what was never meant to reach them.

Sulahn’nehn watched with growing horror as the beautiful blue and green marble in her focus, so loved by its star, began to rot with the corruption of its own children. Time flew by her as Blight after Blight ravaged the land, scarring its beautiful face with desolation and pestilence. 

Sulahn’nehn understood why Judex had come, why someone had to come. It was painful to watch the building scars on the beautiful face of Thedas through time from this distance without the urge to do _something_.

 _You understand,_ they said. It was a statement, not a question, almost glad in its disembodied tone. _The Blight was created by our kind to guard our treasures from treacherous thieves. We have showed you how to heal it. We cannot bear to see our cousin’s lady love suffer so. You must mend her, and bring our judgement on the one who brought this plague. You will send the first transgressor to us for our own mightiest judgement._

She awoke before she could question Judex further. When she searched for Mien’Harel in her chambers, the fennec was gone. She never saw it again, from that day forward, in the waking world nor in the Fade. But she still remembered every dream she shared with it, more clearly than even the memory of that first kiss in the Fade she had once held onto so dearly. She already knew what to do.

She took her abstracted “theory” to Dagna in Skyhold, who immediately seized on the opportunity to experiment, in all her brilliance. Sulahn’nehn had come to dearly love this funny little dwarf whose passion for the arcane arts easily rivaled her own. She reminded the empress of the dwarves that once lived with her second clan in her youth. They began with red lyrium, easily procured after Corypheus ravaged the landscape. It had little value, common as it was, and its blighted properties rendered it useless to those who needed lyrium for their magic.

Sulahn’nehn would focus bursts of light from her staff at varying intensities, which Dagna carefully recorded. They soon found the correct intensity to quickly and cleanly restore the worthless red lyrium to its original and priceless blue state, a miraculous achievement.

Now that she had a source of producing endless wealth from worthless scraps, her coffers began to grow. She did not need the money for herself, but knew all too well that the lands she desired would come at a great price. She began to spread rumors of lyrium deposits in the Arbor Wilds to shed any suspicion from her abilities, for Dagna was the only one who knew.

She was not blind to the implications of her abilities. The red lyrium was _blighted_ , and she was able to _remove its Blight_. Surely, she would be able to repeat the process on Blighted people, saving them from sure death. Perhaps she would be able to extend her power to Thedas itself, one day. But in the meantime, she had work to do.

Every week, new word came from her worried and confused advisors about unrest in Fereldan. Queen Anora seemed to have descended into madness, and would round up elves in alienages for mass execution. King Alistair was a vocal opponent of her actions, and brought scores of enchanters to Denerim to ascertain if she was under the influence of a demon. Thankfully, red lyrium was still too new of a substance for them to think of it.

The nobles began to rally around Alistair as his relationship with Anora slowly fractured. She was prevented from holding more mass executions, and he began to keep her locked in a great room of their palace in Denerim for the good of both her and their kingdom.

The gossip spread endlessly; had Anora succumbed to madness? Her life had been difficult, and bleak; surely her experiences informed her breakdown. _But they seemed so happy together!_ Sulahn’nehn simply bit her lip and laughed along with the gossip at Skyhold, unwilling to betray herself or Leliana.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sulahn'nehn breaks up with Cullen and "negotiates" with Celene.
> 
> NSFW chapter!
> 
> Pairings involved:
> 
> Lavellan x Cullen  
> Lavellan x Briala x Celene

Sulahn’nehn stared up at the hole in the ceiling of Cullen’s bedroom as he gasped and collapsed on top of her. She had been useless this time; lifeless, listless, distracted, even as she came to him to secretly ease her own burdens. It wasn’t working. Nothing worked any more, not now that she loathed herself nearly as much as she loathed Solas.

He had been so tender, so sweet, so careful with her. He had taught himself to please her, over the past weeks. It was too much. She took this too far. As Cullen tenderly caressed her face and kissed her, she closed her eyes tightly and images of a certain mage’s deep set grey eyes sparkling as he pressed his nose into her cheek flooded her mind. She nearly sobbed, but only shut her eyes tighter and pushed her feelings into Cullen’s lips.

She smiled tightly and quickly shuffled off his bed to put her clothes back on. He sat on the bed, still naked, gazing at her with a smile. 

It was too much. He clearly had begun to care for her in ways she could _never_ return. She had to end this, as much as it hurt her to hurt her friend. How could she do it without causing him the same kind of pain Solas had caused her with his abrupt breakup? 

She couldn’t. She was more awful than Solas, now, she well knew. Perhaps Solas had lied to her about his mysterious past, but he hadn’t _assassinated_ anyone in cold blood, surely. Perhaps it was time to own up to the monster she had become.

She sighed as she laced her boots and began to speak quietly to Cullen, her eyes focused on her shoes. “Cullen. I think…” She grimaced. “We’ve taken this too far. We…” she gulped, remembering the words the bald elf had left her with in Crestwood, “should focus on our duties.”

She sat quietly for a moment, fully dressed but unwilling to move or look at him, until he sighed in return. “I see. I hope it’s not my fault…”

She looked up in shock. “No! Cullen, really, it’s me. I’m just so… The last year has really messed with my head. I need time alone to figure myself out.” She frowned and rose as he quietly nodded at her, his eyes so sad. Should she embrace him, one last time? Was it right?

She indecisively ruffled her own short hair, staring at the floor, dejected. After a moment, she looked at him ruefully and turned for the door, closing it behind her. She stood outside his room for a moment as her heat beat faster and her breath began to shorten and swell.

She nearly _ran_ to her chambers then, forcing herself to maintain her composure until the door before her stairs was closed. She began to sob as she crawled up her own staircase, ending up in a crumpled heap on the floor.

She felt like she was drowning. She could barely even breathe, in her shock. She was the worst, the absolute worst. Worse than Solas. Solas at least had the decency not to _fuck her right before he left_. What in Thedas was she thinking? Had she truly become so callous? 

She sobbed and wailed as she thrashed on the floor of her bedroom, alone. She finally curled up on the floor before her bed in a fetal position, sniffling and shaking. She heard a soft creak and footsteps, but did not move. After a moment, she heard Briala’s voice above her.

“Are you alright, Sulie?” Her friend used the pet name Sera had coined for her long ago, that many of her closest friends called her by. Her clans had never allowed her a pet name before. She liked it. 

She slowly sat up and looked up at Briala, who sat down beside her on the floor. 

“Bria… I’m the worst person in the world,” she sighed. Briala laughed. “Really? You? That’s the last thing anyone would say of you, Inquisitor,” she teased. Sulahn’nehn shook her head.

“Briala, you’re my spymaster now. It’s time I fill you in on what Leliana and I have been plotting since her ascension,” she sighed, pressing her fingers against her aching forehead. She should take some elfroot later; it would help. Maybe smoke a little blood lotus to take the edge off.

It had been several weeks, after all. She was waiting for Celene’s alliance and approval before she shared more with her own spymaster. Perhaps it had been a bad choice to pick someone loyal to another for her own inner circle, but it was no matter; Briala’s closeness to Celene made her valuable, _especially_ now.

She looked at Briala’s pretty face and smiled weakly. She was _almost_ pretty enough to make her feel better, with her dark eyes, freckled tan and darker curls. “Well… The Divine has proved to be rather ruthless in her pursuit of freedom for our people. You know she appointed me regent of the new Dirthavaren region.” Briala nodded. 

“Elves and mages cannot truly enjoy the freedoms we need under the reign of Celene, under her present laws. Not yet. She is too bound by the many nobles that surround them to make any true changes. The Ferelden rulers are no better. We are too different to be ruled by the shemlen, Briala,” she sighed.

Briala raised an eyebrow suspiciously. “And how do you intend to break from Celene’s reign, Your Worship?”

Sulahn’nehn closed her eyes and sighed into her hands for a moment, dropping them to look Briala directly in the eye. “What I am about to tell you may cause you to judge me as hard as I currently judge myself. I do not blame you if you choose to leave my service after this,” she whispered.

“Go on,” said Briala in a steely voice.

“Divine Victoria… has a scheme devised. It began a few weeks ago, at the announcement in Val Royeaux,” she said in shame. “I… poisoned Queen Anora. With red lyrium. It’s driving her mad, and discrediting her among the nobles while Alistair gains favor on his own… and it will soon kill her, leaving Alistair a widower. My friend. I’m killing my own friend.” She shook her head and sobbed again into her knees.

When she looked up again, Briala was smirking. “Discrediting Anora was a wise plan,” she said carefully, her eyes focused far away in calculated thought. “Simply assassinating her would not do. She was far too popular among the people to just kill her and replace her as Queen… until she started the mass executions,” she said wryly. “Alistair has done well over the past few weeks to curry the favor of the nobles and make it seem like _he’s_ been running the empire all along while she slowly descended into madness. Hmm.”

Sulahn’nehn cocked her head. What was _Briala_ planning, now? _You know too many of these blighted Orlesian spies_ , she thought to herself sardonically.

Briala smiled. “Sulie, did you know Celene has always dreamed of uniting Orlais and Ferelden? She thought it was impossible through marriage, with Anora in power for so long, until now. It is one of the reasons she has stayed unmarried for decades. And if you say Anora is about to die…” She chuckled. “Well, this is working out well for everyone.”

“Everyone except Anora,” she said miserably. “And Alistair. They seem so in love…” 

Briala shrugged. “Alistair is fickle. People say the marriage was a political one, that he romanced the Warden Mahariel before she died killing the Archdemon. He seems to be a good actor, that I will say. But note that it has been years since the Blight, and they remain childless.”

Sulahn’nehn shook her head sadly. “Anora is barren. She told me as much.” She sadly looked down at her feet. “I think I am, too. We talked about it, it was something we had in common…” A heavy tear dropped from her eye straight onto the floor with a tiny splash.

Briala touched Sulahn’nehn’s shoulder compassionately . “Either way, Alistair has proven to be amenable to political marriage. We can all use this to our benefit. I want freedom for our people as much as you do, Sulie. I’m so glad we’re working together now,” she said earnestly. “I know you feel bad about Anora, but… if you weigh the lives of _all_ of our people, all the city elves and Dalish of Thedas, against the life of one Queen, does your action really seem so bad?”

Sulahn’nehn looked down at the puddle she had made on her stone floor and sighed, finally nodding. “I guess you’re right, although I still think I’m an awful person for doing it. And…” she sighed again. “Um, I just broke up with Cullen. I mean, we weren’t really together, but I ended it before we got too close… really badly.” 

Briala chuckled a little and hugged her. “We all mess up sometimes. These things are hard. Maker knows I’ve said some terrible things to people who I turned down after Celene…” She chuckled again. “Come on. Let’s go downstairs. Sera was looking for you, she baked cookies again. I’m not sure how they’ll taste, but…” Sulahn’nehn laughed for the first time that day and scrambled to her feet, following Briala out of the room.

She ate the burned gingerbread with Briala and Sera on Sera’s rooftop, smiling with her two best friends, thinking carefully of what Briala had just told her. Perhaps Celene would be quickly amenable to the arrangement, if she knew about it personally. She could trust the empress with her secret, although this was one that could surely end her. She would forever be in Celene’s debt for any title she gained in her scheming, if she revealed _who_ killed Anora.

“Briala, could you invite Celene to Skyhold for me sometime soon? I’d like to speak with her privately,” she said casually.

“Of course, your Worship. She’s staying in the Winter Palace at the moment, treating again with the Mayor of Halamshiral to prepare for your transition. I suspect she’d be happy to come here _tonight_ , if I send a courier quickly. It is not far, with the new roads,” said Briala with a mischievous smile and a wink. Perhaps this evening would be quite fun, after all.

Sera rolled her eyes. “Not more of this pish again. I’m bloody well sick of you two talking work all the time. We’re _eating!_ Look at the _scenery!_ ” She angrily grabbed a small stone and threw it at the helmet of a passing soldier, smirking and flipping him the bird as he yelped and stared up at them. Sulahn’nehn laughed along with Sera as the soldier shook his head in anger and walked off.

She stayed in the tavern with Sera and Varric for hours, laughing and singing along with the bard Maryden, until Briala entered the Herald’s Rest, smiling, to escort her back to her private chambers. Celene awaited her on the balcony; the blinds had been pulled back by her chambermaids, and the heavy light of dusk pleasantly streamed in from the open doors.

“Hello, Your Radiance,” she said pleasantly, Briala still behind her. Celene turned and smiled, her ornate mask carefully discarded and left on Sulahn’nehn’s desk. The slowly waning sunlight kissed her pale face and paler hair as she smiled at the Inquisitor, gracefully walking back into the room to kiss her cheeks genially in the Orlesian way. Sulahn’nehn smiled brightly and let her small warm hands linger on the empress’s cool ones for a moment, before she pulled them away.

“My Empress, has Briala informed you of the reason for your visit tonight?” she asked softly.

Celene gave a knowing smile to Briala, and laughed. “Somewhat. I understand you have… a proposition for me tonight? And a large revelation, too, I gather?” Sulahn’nehn simply smiled, resisting the urge to raise an eyebrow at Briala even in private. She would have to admit her wrongdoing to the Empress after all. She should try her best to point the finger at the Divine, even if she would not accept the truth in her heart.

“The Divine Victoria has planned much for the elves, your Radiance,” she said, very quietly, lest there be listeners outside her door. She knew there were no more than trusted guards, but even they could be quietly killed.

“Indeed,” Celene smiled imperiously. 

“She has… arranged for the slow assassination of Queen Anora of Ferelden,” she continued carefully. “She used an undetectable poison that is driving the queen to madness and a slow death. Soon, Anora will be fully discredited in her role, and… Alistair will eventually be a widower,” she said quietly, carefully observing Celene for any minute changes in expression. A moment passed without any change. Suddenly, the empress beamed fully.

“I see. So you and the Divine Victoria intend to have Alistair married off after her death? Am I to be the lucky suitor?” Celene asked sweetly. 

Sulahn’nehn nodded; Briala had suggested Celene would like the idea, but she did not expect her to catch on quite so quickly. “Yes, your Radiance. It may take time, but… We would all be better off with a united Empire, don’t you think?”

Celene grinned and nodded at her, her features crinkling with her age. 

She had been Empress for decades with no heir, turning away every noble suitor for her leaf-eared lover’s sake. Surely someone like Alistair would not mind her continued dalliances, if he was as fickle as Briala claimed.

“I do not think Alistair would mind your relationship with Briala,” Sulahn’nehn said casually, looking at Briala, who smiled.

Celene laughed. “That would be most preferable, yes.”

“But, your Radiance… I have but one boon I must ask of you in return for my assistance in uniting your Empire,” she said nervously. Celene raised an eyebrow, but nodded. 

Sulahn’nehn cleared her throat and continued. “I wish to create a land where my people are governed under their own laws. The Divine has bound me to create a safe space for the mages, and they, too, need a special set of laws. I know you cannot enact radical change without incurring rebellion and unrest within your own lands. I request that after the Empire is united and expanded, that you grant me the Dirthavaren to govern independently as a small, separate nation.” 

Celene smiled. “It will be no small task to convince the nobles, but I will work to meet your request. With Ferelden united, we will have land to spare. I have desired to unite Orlais and Ferelden once more for longer than I can say. 

The Empress genially touched the Inquisitor’s shoulder, still smiling. “The Divine’s plans are ruthless… but effective. Alistair is gaining enough of a foothold to be King in his own right even now. When Anora passes…” Celene sighed quietly and looked at the mural Solas had taught her to paint as her hand slipped back down. “It may be difficult to win Alistair to my side, for he is not fond of me.”

Sulahn’nehn smirked a little. Alistair had been almost _flirtatious_ in his friendliness to her. If Celene could not comfort him in his inevitable loss, she could do it herself. “Perhaps I can help you with that, Your Radiance. A few choice words…” 

Celene looked at her sharply and slowly smiled. “Then I think we are to get to know each other quite well, in the coming weeks,” she said quietly, looking at Briala.

Briala stepped towards her softly, embracing her behind and kissing Sulahn’nehn’s neck as she let out a sigh and leaned her neck away from the taller elf to give her permissive access. 

She had never been with a woman, much less two of them, though she had quietly desired many of her clanmates over the years. Her touch was so delicate, so defiantly different from Solas or even Cullen. _This_ could help her forget.

She opened her eyes and saw Celene smirking imperiously at her, standing surprisingly close. The empress raised a pale, delicate hand and ran it down the front of Sulahn’nehn’s tunic seductively.

“If you are to sing my praises to the King, it would be best if you experience them for yourself first, don’t you think?” murmured the blonde empress, stepping forward again to plant a soft kiss on Sulahn’nehn’s astonished lips.

She quickly responded to the kiss, her warm tongue tentatively exploring the radiant empress’s parted lips. Her kiss was soft, smooth, graceful, like the Empress herself. She began to understand why men spent so much time fantasizing about women; this was exquisite. 

The empress began to undress her tunic with her long, cool fingers as Briala unlaced her breeches from behind. She was quickly naked between the two women as they caressed her. Celene firmly held her shoulders and turned her to face Briala. “I want to watch you with her,” she whispered, as Briala smiled and began to kiss her passionately.

She was soon lost in the comfort of Briala’s arms as Celene stepped back and watched them quietly. Briala caressed her as Sulahn’nehn carefully removed her spymaster’s rogue armor, revealing tanned, freckled skin underneath that she softly kissed as she worked her fingers against the rest of the elven girl’s armor.

Once they were both naked, Briala led her to her bed, their fingers entwined. They lay down gently, kissing and exploring each other tentatively before Briala pulled Sulahn’nehn towards her and began to kiss her hard, stroking her thighs ever closer to her groin as Sulahn’nehn began to sweat in anticipation.

She caressed Briala’s firm breasts and gasped as the taller elf slid a finger between her legs, touching her in _just_ the right spot. She began to caress the Inquisitor expertly, with the touch of one who _truly_ knew how to please her. Sulahn’nehn muffled her moan against the tight curve of Briala’s small, high breast as she came.

“Very good,” purred a voice at her side. Celene had already removed her great gown, which stood by itself on the floor beside her bed under the weight of her many skirts. She sat on the bed, and began to lay down beside her, until Sulahn’nehn was sandwiched between the two lovers. 

Celene kissed her sensitive, pointed ears and caressed her body as Sulahn’nehn pressed back against her. She turned around to face the Empress, sliding against Briala’s soft, toned body until she came face to face with Celene and kissed her again, exploring her mouth confidently.

She moaned as Celene slid two cool fingers inside her, gently, steadily, waiting for her body to give in before pressing further. Briala was kissing her ears now, rubbing herself against Sulahn’nehn’s firm rear.

It was not long before the Empress built her to a frenzied, panting climax, which the two experienced lovers observed with amusement. 

“Sulie, you’re so beautiful when you come,” smiled Briala, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on her cheek as she blushed. Celene laughed. “Yes, I agree. Our Inquisitor is most exquisite.” The empress graced her with a series of soft kisses down her abdomen before standing again to retrieve her gown. 

“It would be best if I retire to my guest chambers before word of this suspiciously long private meeting gets out,” said Celene calmly, putting on her bodice as Briala quickly rose to help her lace the complicated contraption that held it together. 

Sulahn’nehn simply smiled, sitting naked and satisfied on the edge of her bed, as she watched the two lovers kiss and giggle as they dressed. They seemed so much happier and more free here in private than she ever saw them otherwise.

Celene replaced her mask and finally graced her with one last, lingering kiss, before bidding her farewell. 

“I most enjoyed our negotiations, Inquisitor. We should engage in such conversation again sometime. I will return to Halamshiral early on the morrow; I shall most likely see you at the funeral.” She smiled sweetly in a way that almost frightened Sulahn’nehn, given the dark implications of her words, before Briala escorted her down the stairs.

It was so strange. She had been so guilty about her actions in poisoning Anora. She had done so at Leliana’s bidding, as the new Left Hand of the Divine, but the weight of the queen’s death would still rest on her own shoulders. Yet it seemed that none who knew of the scheme found it in any way deplorable or ruthless, focusing only on its cunning efficiency. Briala had not hated her for it, and Celene found it outright _exciting._

“Orlesians,” she muttered to herself, shaking her head. It was not only Orlais, she knew. It seemed like in this cruel world, anyone was expendable, no matter their stature. Even a queen could be disposed of without the slightest _care_ or or even _malice_ , simply a pawn who stood in the way of those more powerful than her. 

Sulahn’nehn shuddered, lying back down on her bed. What would that mean for her? Would she be as expendable as Anora, in time?


End file.
